


Shelter

by dracoqueen22



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bulkhead offers reassurance and Optimus returns the favor. Set post "Con Job" episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> For tf-rare-pairing weekly prompt request "Optimus/Bulkhead, you're one of mine"

“Aren't you gonna ask me?”  
  
Optimus turned to look at Bulkhead now that they were back on base, the Ground Bridge closing behind them with a crackle of energy.  
  
“Ask you?”  
  
The common room was deserted. Bumblebee had volunteered to take the children home and Ratchet was probably in a back room, tinkering with some project or another. Arcee was out on patrol.  
  
“Why I didn't go with him.”  
  
Optimus inclined his helm, gaze lingering on the former Wrecker. “I have never questioned your loyalty to the Autobots nor your personal promise to me, Bulkhead.”  
  
“This isn't about that though,” Bulkhead replied, one arm making a broad gesture, encompassing the whole base, the Autobots, everything.  
  
He strongly suspected that Bulkhead had wanted him to ask. Maybe it was something Bulkhead wanted to get off his chestplate.  
  
Optimus approached the former Wrecker, laying his hands on those broad shoulders. “If you wish to tell me, I will listen.”  
  
Bulkhead shifted noticeably, his energy field tentatively uncoiling and reaching out. “The Wreckers aren't my family anymore. And Wheeljack can take care of himself.”  
  
Optimus' fingers rapped a nonsense rhythm over Bulkhead's thick plating. “You remained in order to protect us?” A noble reason to be sure.  
  
One hand lifted, a fist thumping his chestplate demonstratively. “It's what I'm good for, Prime. So I stayed.”  
  
Warmth radiated from Optimus' spark, the warmth of approval and affection, something he carried in bundles for his team. “Rest assured, Bulkhead, we are all relieved you did not leave us. Miko, in particular, is glad.”  
  
Say nothing of everyone else. Arcee, who had begun to treat Bulkhead as a pseudo-partner, was pleased as well. She did not voice her emotions aloud but Optimus knew his team well enough to recognize her happiness. Ratchet, despite all his bluster, was also fond of the former Wrecker and Bumblebee felt the same.  
  
Bulkhead's optics brightened. “And what about you?”  
  
Static leapt from Optimus' fingers to Bulkhead's plating as he swept his hands down green armor, leaving tell-tale vibrations in his wake. “Leaving is not an option for me.”  
  
A touch of amusement colored Bulkhead's energy field. He stepped closer, the proximal edges of their field knitting together. “Not what I meant at all, Prime. I think you're being dense on purpose.”  
  
Tension rippled away in the wake of Optimus' own building amusement. “I merely want you to understand how valuable you are to my team, Bulkhead. I would not wish for you to ever believe otherwise.”  
  
Bulkhead cocked his helm to the side. “Ya gonna show me how valuable I am?”  
  
Well, it had been awhile since any of them indulged in some team bonding. Cliffjumper's loss was still too new and sparkbreaking to blithely fall into a tangle of limbs and cables and overloads. The presence of the children was also partly to blame as it was something Optimus did not wish to let them witness or explain. From what he had seen of human culture, it would not be readily accepted.  
  
“If you would allow me,” Optimus replied with a dip of his helm, pushing a short, invitational pulse from his energy field.  
  
A low-pitched laugh echoed in the room as large, heavy hands settled on Optimus' pelvic array, a comfortable and familiar weight. “I'd be offended if you didn't.” Bulkhead squeezed, putting a tangible pressure against Optimus' armor, activating the sensors beneath with a ripple of heat.  
  
Optimus' rumbled in acquiescence. “Your berth or mine?”  
  
“You lead; I follow. How it's been, how it's gonna be.” Bulkhead's thumb stroked between a gap in Optimus' plating, teasing a particularly sensitive line.  
  
Optimus couldn't hide a shiver. “And in return, I will always consider you one of my own,” he said, punctuating the statement with a crackling sweep of his energy field, letting affection and desire wash over Bulkhead.  
  
And if there was possessive edge to his vocals, well, Optimus attributed that to the Matrix. In its point-of-view, every Cybertronian belonged to the Prime. Though personally, Optimus only considered those within his sphere of influence, those who had given him their personal promise, to be his. In the same way that he belonged to them. It was mutual.  
  
“Now,” Optimus added, with a curve of his lipplates. “Might I suggest my berth? It is larger.” And closer.  
  
Bulkhead's right hand pressed against Optimus' dorsal plating, teasing the lower curve of a smokestack. “And mebbe round two we can tackle Ratchet. Doc needs an overload or twelve.”  
  
Optimus rumbled his agreement. In fact, he hoped he could pull in every member of his team today. They were due some team-bonding, and what better way to reassure Bulkhead that he was both wanted and needed?  
  


***


End file.
